


inflated ego

by cryptidknees (bigmistaketm)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Camboy Raihan, Consensual Underage Sex, Dubious Consent, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prostitution, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Sex Toys, Underage Sex, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21774682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigmistaketm/pseuds/cryptidknees
Summary: raihan chases that rush of adrenaline just a little too far
Relationships: Kabu/Kibana | Raihan, Raihan/Stranger
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	inflated ego

**Author's Note:**

> this is extremely self indulgent, if i'm being honest. i just really wanted raihan to be the slut that he is, but also wanted him to be young because i just,,, i just wanted to, okay? if you liked this, come talk to me about it on twitter @cryptidknees

Raihan is twelve when he starts the gym challenge, all shiny and smiles and exuding a snark kind of confidence. He deserved that confidence, had been complimented enough times and made good on those words of praise, dominated in battle and social circles. Raihan was utterly, objectively  _ good _ , whether it be as a trainer or any other skill he decided to pick up, and it was obvious to everyone who tuned in to the gym challenge. Not to mention he was attractive for his age, long, dark legs, sharp smiles, and a wink here or there to keep his fans on their toes. He was talented, popular,  _ loved _ , and he knew it from the moment he stepped into the spotlight.

The lights of the stadium are blinding as he walks onto the field. The crowd roars around him, the music and the cheers melding into one wall of sound that seems to crush him. With it comes a rush of adrenaline, the thrill of the upcoming battle and the warmth in his chest from knowing that these people are cheering for  _ him _ . 

“Don’t expect me to go easy on ya’ just cuz you’re pretty,” the gym leader, Raihan can’t quite remember his name, gives him a cocky grin as he shakes his hand. He’s an older gentleman, closer to retirement than any of the other leaders in the region. His hair is greyed and his hands are calloused through years of battle. He’s built like a brick shithouse, all muscle in a way that Raihan knows had the girls swooning in his better days, maybe even now. “good luck.” he says finally, then retreats back to his side of the ring. Raihan is left standing there, eyes wide, and that familiar heat of praise moves down to settle in his groin rather than his chest.

The feeling is… odd. People have told him how attractive he is, how good he is at battling, every compliment under the sun, but none had made him feel like  _ this _ . That warmth is searing now, burning in his crotch and turning his brain to mush and he has to physically shake himself back into reality. He retreats to his side of the ring and pushes down the feeling, trying desperately to focus on the battle in front of him.

Press swarmed around him like flies, asking the same things they always did.  _ ‘Are you available to schedule an interview?’  _ No, too busy training.  _ ‘Are you dating anyone?’ _ He would grin at those ones, even blew a kiss to the camera once before replying with ‘I’m married to hard work,’ pause, ‘and my fans.’ He knew it was cheesy, but the internet loved his remarks, every little thing he did driving them wild. It was easy to get their attention, almost as easy to keep it, and as much as he loved it, he wasn’t really interested in it now, too caught up in the thought of the gym leader calling him  _ pretty _ .

“Excuse me, move it, people,” the gym leader from before makes his way through the crowd and towards the teen, blocking him from the view of the cameras.

“That was a good match; sorry I had to beat you, though.” Raihan grins up at the man, usual charm laid on thick, but he can’t help the way his cheeks flush under his gaze.

“Then let me take the future champ to dinner as a condolence prize,” the man looks like a predator, cornering his prey, but Raihan doesn’t feel the need to run. Adrenaline rushes through him, he’s sure of that much, but he’s not scared. He’s  _ excited _ .

“Only if it’s your treat,” Raiahn bats his eyes. He’s attractive, he’s been told that enough, but he wants to make sure this man knows  _ just _ how pretty he can be.

“Of course.” Is his only response before he grabs Raihan by the arm and pulls him away from the crowd of people. He follows willingly behind, practically buzzing with nervous energy that seems to radiate where the man touches him. He tries to remember his name; Tyson? Gary? He has no idea, and he honestly doesn’t care. He just wants him to keep looking at him like that, wants him to call him pretty again, and it’s this desire that leads him onto his knees in an alleyway.

“Fuck, you sure you’ve never done this before?” The man’s gruff voice fills his ears and floods his senses. His big hand holds onto Raihan’s locks tightly, pull him down farther on his fat cock and the boy struggles not to choke. He doesn’t want to be seen as an amature, would rather show how competent he can be in every aspect of life. Just because he hasn’t tried it doesn’t mean he can’t be good at it; Raihan’s always had a knack for everything he does. He’s let off of his dick and coughs into the back of his hand, looking up at his partner with wet eyes. It hurts his throat but he can’t deny how  _ good  _ it feels to be looked at like that, how the heat builds in his groin when he slips his tongue against the tip and the man groans.

“You were made to take cock, weren’t you? Such a good boy,” Raihan holds back a moan of his own at the praise. He wonders how he looks, on his knees in an alley, a dick hanging in front of his face and drool dripping from his lips.

“I wanna…” Raihan pants, the words to describe what he wants, what he  _ needs _ , elude him. The man looks at him like he knows a secret, smiles like there’s a joke Raihan doesn’t understand, and gently but firmly guides the boy back to his cock.

Raihan takes it down greedily, lips wrapped tightly around the veined member. His tongue swipes against the base as he sinks down, the taste of precum heavy in his mouth, and he thinks that maybe he  _ was _ made to do this. He chastises himself for not doing it  _ sooner _ , even. He could’ve convinced Leon to do this with him, sucked him off or fucked him or let him fuck him. Well, no, he thinks, because Leon wouldn’t be able to do  _ this _ . He wouldn’t be strong hands on the back of his head, a deep voice praising him, telling him how to move his tongue and suck just right. Leon is just a boy; Raihan wants a  _ man _ .

Raihan is lost in his thoughts, in the feeling of his throat constricting around the thinck cock in his mouth, when he feels a pressure on his aching groin. He groans around the member in his mouth, ruts up against the feeling, and he realizes that it’s the man’s foot. He grinds his heel down on him again, and Raihan thinks he might cum in his pants right then. He can’t hold back his moans as he continues to try to suck the gym leader’s dick, slobber now dripping down his chin. His eyes threaten to roll into the back of his head so he shuts them tightly, feels the tears finally slip from his eyes, but they stemmed from nothing but pleasure, the pure joy of being used.

“I want you to cum choking on my cock,” the man says, and another pathetic whine escapes Raihan as he presses himself down farther, nose barely brushing the hair at the base of him, “I bet you want that too, don’t you, good boy?” He presses down harder on his clothed erection, rubs so hard it’s almost painful, but every part of him is screaming for release and when the man says, “Cum, Raihan,” he immediately obeys. Raihan feels himself stiffed, hips thrusting mechanically up towards the foot on his crotch as cum fills his boxer and soaks through his gym shorts. He rides it out, thrusting and squelching and now being practically face fucked by the man as he no longer seems to be able to do it himself. It isn’t long before the man follows suit, giving no warning before he cums down the back of Raihan’s throat, salty and bitter but not wholly unpleasant, yet he can’t stop himself from coughing it up Spit, cum, and tears cover his face and he looks up as it drips from his chin and into his cupped hand. His eyes meet the gym leader’s, who smiles wickedly and holds up a camera.

The click comes before he can say anything to protest; all he can do is stare up in disbelief as the man whistles in appreciation.

“The press is right, kid; the camera loves you. Here, look,” He turns the camera to Raihan, and his stomach drops. His knees are spread to his sides and scraped raw and bloody, a very prominent wet spot can be seen on the front of his white shorts, and the rest of him looks absolutely fucked out. His headband is gone, locks disheveled and hanging in his face. His eyes are heavy lidded as he looks down towards his cupped hands, his tongue out and dripping thick globs of cum into them. He looks perverse, disgusting, and yet somehow so fucking  _ good _ .

“Yeah, I could make  _ real _ good money off’a this one.” He turns it back to himself to admire, and Raihan, voice quiet and scratchy, grabs weakly onto the front of the man’s half-pulled up pants.

“Please, don’t.” The man gives him that smile again, like he knows something that Raihan doesn’t. He crouches down to Raihan’s level now, runs an oddly gentle hand against his cheek.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll keep this one for my…  _ personal collection _ . Although, I really do think you could make some money. If you’re gonna act like such’a whore, you might as well get paid to do it; I know trainin’ ain’t cheap.” His thumb swipes over a bit of cum on his cheek, rubs it against his lips and Raihan instinctually licks at the digit. He thinks he’s used to the taste of it now, as much as one can be from a single time, and he finds himself enjoying the tang on his tongue, and especially the groan it elicits from the man.

The gym leader stands back up, rights his pants back into place, and then pulls a small card out of his pocket. He tosses it to Raihan, who dumbly picks it up off the ground. He’s surprised to find it’s not a League Card. Instead, it only holds a number, email, and a website: DragonDom.com

“Send me a text when you wanna make some money,” he gives the boy a once over and a wink, “or you wanna have a bit of fun again.” And with that, the man set off down the alleyway and out to the street, leaving Raihan a sticky, confused mess.

Raihan can’t stop thinking about it.

He spends the next week in the wild area, constantly training either himself or his pokemon, refusing to give himself time enough to stew on what happened to him, the offer he was given. He tries to keep himself busy, but when the night comes and he’s forced to settle in his tent, away from all the pokemon that are too strong to keep fighting, sleep eludes him and is replaced by thoughts of the alleyway.

He gets hard just thinking about it, remembering how it felt as his throat constricted around the man’s cock, could almost taste the cum on the back of his tongue. And the  _ praise _ , Arceus, that’s what he wants more than anything. He wants those soft words of encouragement, another pleasure to added to the pile as he chokes himself on his fingers and fucks into his hand. He doesn’t really understand why he needs his fingers down his throat, other than the fact that it makes his dick twitch in his hand every time he gags. He thinks back to the way the gym leader pushed him down on his cock, how he spoke to him, and comes to the conclusion that he  _ needs _ it again as he cums over his stomach.

**Raihan:** hello? this is raihan

**Raihan:** you gave me your card…?

**Unknown:** That didn’t take long. Meet me at the Budew Drop Inn tomorrow at 9.

The reply comes quicker than he expects, and is a lot less exciting. He thought he would immediately be showered in praise and filthy words like before, but it’s just… straight to the point. No sweet talk, no chit-chat. It’s boring, utterly disappointing, and Raihan’s not sure he even  _ wants _ to do this anymore. 

Everything Raihan does is rooted in his desire for excitement. He battles with everything he has, says everything that’s on his mind without hesitation, only does what he wants to do, what’ll give him the rush of adrenaline he craves. That night in the alleyway gave him that, gave him  _ so much more _ than anything else had, and he  _ craves _ it. It’s part of him now, imbedded deep inside him, and he wants to do it again more than anything else. He loves to battle, loves to get the crowds roaring, but he’s  _ infatuated _ with that unfamiliar feeling of arousal, the dirty sensation of being on his knees, cum down his throat, and praise in his ears. 

The text is boring, unexciting, but the promise it makes is anything but. He has to go, obviously, he’s  _ definitely _ going to go. He’d do anything, go anywhere, to get that rush again.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for making it this far. more will be coming soon, and i hope you stick around to read it. find me on twitter and tumblr @cryptidknees, and i also have a ko-fi @cryptidknees if you want to uhhh give me money for some reason.  
> thanks for reading!


End file.
